There are the things in life we are certain of – that are inarguably true.
I am the mother of two children.
I own a house.
I have two dogs.
My husband is dead.
Then there are the things that we know, but cannot explain.
I always knew, for example, that Chris and I would not grow old together. I just could not picture it in my brain. For a while I thought this meant that our marriage wouldn’t make it and we’d get a divorce some time after the kids were grown. I had no logical reason to think this way, but attributed it to never seeing my own parents grow old together.
Chris and I discussed retirement, as in “we need to save for retirement”, but never concrete. Talked about moving out west at some point. After the 9/11 attacks I was laid off from a job I loved, and Chris was working on screenplays and had business in L.A., so we took a cross-country trip. We spent a few days in Glenwood Springs, Colorado with our beagle puppy thought the place was magical. We later joked that I would never move further south, and he would not go further north, so clearly Colorado was the only option.
Then my extremely fit husband started to lose the strength in his left foot. Within a year the doctors had mentioned ALS, and Chris just knew. We hoped for something else, cancer even, but he confessed an odd feeling.
He always knew he would die young.
It was part of the reason he lived life so big. Why he obsessed over life insurance and saving. Why he wanted things in order.
And I wasn’t the least bit surprised. Sad, yes, but not surprised. I always knew this was coming, though knowing didn’t make it any easier.
I had been preparing for widowhood all of my life. I watched my mother go through it (younger than I did), and she survived. I rarely saw her cry. Oh, I’m sure she struggled since it was unexpected, but she was tough and confident and didn’t seem to mind being alone.
I grew up the same way, almost to a fault. I didn’t rely on a partner emotionally and I was perfectly confident in my decision making skills. I refused to be one of those women that was lost without a man. Fortunately for me, Chris appreciated this independence. My behavior wasn’t always ideal (I often made decisions without consulting him), but we made it work for us for 25 years, so there’s that.
All things evolved as the universe planned. Chris was right about dying young, and I was right about us not growing old together. I was also right to keep myself as independent as I did so that this new phase wasn’t such a big transition. I have been doing our bills for most of our marriage, and have been handling the children and housekeeping issues by myself for several years now. Is it easy? No. But is it scary? Also no.
And this is the big takeaway I want for my daughters. I want to set an example of strength. I want them to see how my friends take care of us and be good friends like that. I want them to see me taking care of the finances and the house and the cars and know that they are perfectly capable of doing all of those things too. I want them to see me asking for help when I need it, and putting up boundaries and ignoring my phone whenever I need peace. I want them to see me prioritizing all of our mental and physical health issues, and not giving a damn what people outside our home think about about these choices. I want them to see me cry and then put one foot in front of the other when things are difficult.
I am living proof that they will survive all that they are feeling right now and not be crushed by it, and I know I am being watched.
Not going to lie, the last few months have been rough. They both hit a wall mid-February and stopped going to school. Thankfully the teachers were compassionate and cooperative and they finally went back after spring break. Are their grades awesome? No. Are they in a better mental place? Absolutely. Not dancing for joy, but not in a deep dark hole either, and that’s all that matters.
So I guess my point here is to not ignore your gut feelings (unless you are one of those individuals who thrives on chaos, and I know several). If your intuition is telling you to prepare for something (unpleasant or otherwise), do it, no matter how bizarre. It’s not being pessimistic, it’s being pragmatic. Step outside of your comfort zone before the universe gets a chance to throw you there. Wade in the waters of “what-ifs” enough to quell fears, but without obsessing, or hang in the waters longer if it’s interesting. What happens to us in life is rarely a surprise if we pay attention.
Laura, I think you are setting an incredible example for your girls. Living is hard, and you’ve been dealt a devastating blow, but you’re showing them that life does go on. Things will never be the same, but eventually, through your strength and determination, I am sure that you will all find a different kind of happiness, one that will allow you to move forward into the future, whatever that will be. I continue to pray for all of you. Love, Deirdre
Thank you for sharing your experience and wisdom Laura. I am so very sorry for your loss. And 100% agree to listen to your gut and set the example for your children. Independence is a wonderful thing. 🥰❤️🩹
Wow—what a powerful post!! As I’ve said so many times, you are the strongest woman I’ve ever known. Your girls are so lucky to have you! They may not realize that right now, but in the future when they are writing their memoirs, they will be so grateful. Love you!
So incredibly interesting, Laura. When Ed and I first married, and like you, I don’t know why but I, too, somehow knew something was going to happen to him. And at first, I was very very careful not to “depend”. As time went on, however, we really did sort of become two halves of the same person and after he died, it took me a while to understand who I was. I was only 19 when we got together, too. Because he was 5 years older, I often let him take control (he didn’t force it, I let it). Now I don’t let anyone control me and it’s a whole different life. I miss him every single day but I also like the woman I have become because of his life and his death. My kids are all thriving, too, and we have made similar decisions prioritizing mental health over everything else. Thanks for sharing.